


Big Dick

by draculard



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batman's questionable parenting skills, Dick is an idiot, Exasperated Joker, Flustered Joker, Gen, Humor, M/M, crackfic, shitty flirting, unrequited teenage crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Robin corners Joker in one of his many abandoned warehouses/evil lairs, but he's not exactly looking for a fight.





	Big Dick

“Hey, babe!”

Joker recognizes the voice, and it sets him on edge, but the words are even more unsettling. He whips around from his Desk of Nefarious Ideas, knife in hand and ready to strike, and sees a blur of red a moment before it slams into him with the force of a tiny elephant. Joker’s head collides with the wall and the breath is knocked out of him with an audible “ _whoof!_ ”

He’s still squeezing his eyes shut from pain when he feels a small, strong hand circle his wrist and twist it, trying to get him to drop the knife.

“Fucking birds,” Joker grumbles. He opens one eye, just to confirm that it is, in fact, Batman’s twerpy Boy Wonder standing before him.

“Hey,” Robin says, pitching his voice deeper than it really is. His grip on Joker is like a vise, but his smile is bright and his posture relaxed, like he’s barely putting forth any effort.

“Where’s Batsy,” Joker says, voice flat. Robin stops trying to disarm him through pain alone and resorts to forcefully bending Joker’s fingers away from the knife handle. He plucks it out of Joker’s hands and tucks it into his utility belt, keeping one boot planted on Joker’s chest.

“Eh, he figured I could handle it,” Robin says. Joker squints at him disbelievingly. It’s only been a few months since Batman debuted his sidekick, who appears to be all of thirteen, dressed in a ridiculously flashy costume complete with tight green panties and thigh-high boots.

“He figured you could handle me?” Joker repeats, offended. Robin cocks his head.

“Well, I _am_ , aren’t I?”

“I wasn’t even _doing_ anything,” Joker says. Robin points at the desk where he tackled Joker, covered in blueprints and chemical formulae.

“Is that,” says Robin, “or is that not the Desk of Nefarious Ideas?”

Joker sniffs haughtily.

“So... _that’s_ a yes,” says Robin. He seems relaxed, but Joker can’t tell if he’s actually off-guard or just acting. “It said specifically in your Arkham release contract that you _can’t plot evil deeds_.” He punctuates his words by leaning all his weight into his leg, pressing his boot painfully against Joker’s chest. Joker swats at the boot with a scowl.

“Get off my tit.”

To his surprise, Robin moves away. He perches on the desk and crosses his legs, staring down at Joker with that irritating smirk.

“Guess how old I am,” Robin says.

It’s so out-of-left-field that Joker loses his balance and collapses back against the wall as he’s trying to stand. “Fifty-three,” he says. “You’re the oldest, ugliest dwarf I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

Robin makes an amused noise. He uncrosses his legs and re-crosses them again, flashing his bare skin in a way that seems suspiciously mature. Joker narrows his eyes at that.

“It doesn’t matter, I guess,” Robin says airily. “Age is just a number.”

Oh, God. This is just what Joker needs. He pushes himself to his feet and moves away from Robin, who stays perched on the desk. Joker crosses to the window and gazes outside, searching hopelessly for any hint of the Caped Crusader.

“ _Where_ ,” he growls, “is Bats?”

“Forget Batman,” Robin says, smiling. “My name’s Dick. As in _big dick_.”

Joker’s eyes are rolling uncontrollably. “Sweet Jesus,” he mutters. “Is this what you people do? You send in a flirtatious munchkin to entrap innocent clowns?” He whirls around, searching the room for hidden cameras. “Come out, Chris Hansen! I know you’re there!”

Robin frowns at him. “This isn’t _To Catch a Predator_. I just think you’re cute.”

“Sure about that?” asks Joker acidly.

“Sure it’s not a TV show? Or sure I think you’re cute?”

Joker eyes him angrily. “That’s enough from you,” he says, voice level. “I know for a fact Batsy wouldn’t approve of this behavior. Even _he_ doesn’t flirt with me.”

“He--” Robin starts. Joker flings his hands up in the air out of exasperation.

“And what’s this _Big Dick_ business? No one ever taught you not to tell villains your _name?_ Your real, honest-to-god _name?_ ”

“Who says it’s my real name?” Robin asks, unconvincing and a little sullen. “And besides, you can’t deny there’s a little…” He gestures between Joker and himself, smiling suggestively. Joker fixes a severe expression on his face, nose in the air.

“Oh, I most certainly _can_ deny it,” he says icily, “because you are a _zygote,_  and I am not _attracted_ to zygotes. I am a fully-developed clown at the peak of maturity and I am _only_ attracted to fellow clowns, pierrots, and mimes.” He pauses, feeling like he’s missing something. “And bats,” he adds hastily.

Robin rolls his eyes, huffing a little, which Joker ignores. He roots around in his pockets until he finds a little purple flip-phone, the shell cracked and covered with faded Lisa Frank stickers.

“Gonna have a talk with Bats about that uniform,” Joker mutters, eyeing Robin’s green panties with distaste. He presses 1 on the flip-phone and holds it to his ear, listening to it ring. As soon as Robin realizes who he’s calling, he somersaults off the Desk of Nefarious Ideas with a scowl.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” he says. “Don’t call Batman!”

“Oh, I’m calling Batman,” Joker says, chest swelling with righteous anger. “Sending you out here--”

“I’m going!” Robin says, crawling through the window.

“--dressed like a third-rate Gothamite stripper--”

“I’m going!” Robin calls from outside, his voice piping high and indignant. “Don’t call him!”

“--flirting with known villains, exploring your sexuality in an _entirely_ unhealthy manner--”

“For Christ’s sake!” Robin says, voice fading as he hurries away. Joker slams the flip phone shut in satisfaction, for once not completely peeved that Batman never answers his fucking calls. He’s sure the kid will get grounded for a lifetime anyway, as soon as Bats finds out he went out alone. In Gotham, of all cities. At night. _Looking for bad guys._

Kids these days. Joker shakes his head.


End file.
